


Ice King - Collection of Drabbles/One Shots

by someawkwardwhitebech



Category: Norse Religion & Lore, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Happy, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Avengers Family, Avengers Feels, Comfort/Angst, Domestic Fluff, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Family Fluff, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluffy Ending, Genderfluid Loki (Marvel), Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Hurt Loki (Marvel), Hurt/Comfort, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Light Angst, Loki (Marvel) Angst, Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, Loki (Marvel) Feels, Loki (Marvel) Gets a Hug, Loki (Marvel) Has Issues, Loki (Marvel) Lives, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Loki (Marvel) Redemption, Loki (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Loki (Marvel)'s Lips Sewn Shut, Loki (Marvel)-centric, Mild Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Protective Avengers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Natasha Romanov, Protective Peter Parker, Protective Steve Rogers, Protective Tony Stark, Romantic Fluff, Sad with a Happy Ending, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2019-12-30 19:16:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18321551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someawkwardwhitebech/pseuds/someawkwardwhitebech
Summary: A collection of Whump Loki, Hurt Loki, Avenger Loki, Happy Loki, Sappy Loki, OOC Loki, and more Loki shit. :)Super Loki-centric, buzz off if you don't want him and you want someone else.Thank.xoxo





	1. Welcome

Welcome! :D

 

xoxo


	2. A Shocking Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being kept under the watch of the Avengers while being rated as Insane or Mentally unstable and under control of the Mad Titan tends to leave you in such predicaments as...
> 
> Well, having a shock collar on for example.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry fr the wait. Enjoy~

His voice was hoarse, throat drier than the Sahara Desert itself, and his mind was as hazy as any tropical rainforest in the world.

He was screaming without realizing it, mind breaking beneath such simple pressure as the Mad Titan's fists colliding with his thoughts.

Loki's own balled up fists were electrifying, hot pulses of blood running cold at his fingertips.

There was an intense amount of rage boiling beneath his somewhat stoic expression.

Maniacal laughter followed suite, his mind snapping at him for such abnormalities as this.

His body did not listen to him, it pretended the Mad Titan was somehow its master.

It decided ultimately that whatever Loki said, went undone, and whatever the Mad Titan had ordered, went without protest.

A click of someone's ring hitting the bars outside gathered his attention.

"Shut up," a guard had said.

It went unnoticed, however, when the Mad Titan's voice ripped apart Loki's head once more.

His wailing went on for hours, slipping through a parched throat and nearly causing his own ears to bleed.

The cell bars wouldn't hold him for much longer though, a promise of saving on the tip of Thanos' tongue; but it was not as reward, but for punishment as getting caught in the first place.

Would Loki relent and give in again if given this newfound chance?

Absolutely not, he was done being controlled by some knock-off Allfather after his war prize.

_Silence, pet._

His screaming had long since ended, the inner turmoil against Thanos had ended abruptly with the single command, brain splitting at the thought of retaliating against the Mad Titan.

Loki's eyes were a vibrant blue, swirls of angry green swirled in the mix, and several Avengers including their director were watching with great interest.

The only one missing was Thor.

_Big Brother._

* * *

 

Snarls of anguish and pure rage slipped from frostbitten lips, a darker blue surrounding his skin.

It seemed as if the blotches of blue were the new trend with their prisoner.

Loki's porcelain, fair skin turned a quick icy, frosty blue.

But within minutes, it seemed as though his own body was fighting against itself. 

It slipped between an angry pastel blue with ridges right back to porcelain, perfect skin.

None dared enter the cage then and there, mainly for fear of the frost and ice pelting against the magical barriers and stamps set up around the cage.

A scream tore from Loki's throat, the darkened leather of the collar nearly choking him as he howled with both rage and distraught panic.

Raw emotions ripped at him through the seams of his stoic expression, the Mad Titan peeling apart his humanity and replacing it with the feverish need to kill.

He snarled and thrashed in the cuffs and bindings he was settled in, spikes of ice ricocheting off his body and around the cage.

The yells, commands, and protests from the guards and Avengers went unheard.

A familiar slit through his nerves ran him hot and cold all at once, the electrifying sweep of the collar striking him quiet once more.

His brain had shut up; and whatever darkened, eerie voice that was speaking, dared not howl any more commands.

It was eerily quiet, he could hear himself sobbing, his uneven breathing and shuddered gasps left him like they never had before.

He'd been freed.

 


	3. Torture Cells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthony Stark has been captured, but he isn't alone.
> 
> Clint's joined him for the ride.
> 
> But they aren't exactly by themselves with the villain either...
> 
> Someone's had it out for this surprising visitor for quite a while.

It took a second for his blurred vision to clear itself up.

With a few blinks, he could finally examine his surroundings.

His memory was also a bit blurry and rough around the edges; only remembering getting kidnapped and knocked out in his driver's private limo.

He wasn't in his suit, but he wasn't exactly harmed physically.

An almost familiar voice clashed against his headache, an angry tone in the corner behind him.

"Don't bother, I will just heal them back up. 'Tis me you are here for, remember?"

He almost told himself to remember to thank whoever it was, but the narcotics running through his bloodstream through an IV had knocked him in seconds of awakening.

"Nighty night," A quite unfamiliar voice slipped into the blank slate of his mind.

* * *

 

A scream tore from someone's throat, breaking and cracking down into a sob as blood seemed to slip and splat onto the concrete, hard floors beneath them.

Whatever pride the person had, was destroyed and trampled on in seconds.

Stark lifted his head, glancing to the source to spot familiar long, tangled black fluffed hair slipping to the floor from a hanging head.

He opened to call out, before noticing the head slip back up and spit out whatever crimson liquid he could at his assaulter.

"Fuck you," a Godly voice answered, hoarse but powerful and stable nonetheless.

Stark found respect for this stranger, though he did feel like he knew the man.

He leaned up a bit more, seeing the kidnapper in his hood and bandana-covered glory.

The man stood, a mortal of course, and laughed, muffled by the bandana but still loud enough for Stark's clouded and fogged mind to hear.

"Thought he was beneath you, piece of shit God," the man spat back, blood coating his whole front, "Can't handle a little pain?"

The man snarled out in pure rage, "I can handle it! I'll tear you to shreds as soon as I can, you low life, mewling quim!"

Stark narrowed his eyes in thought, catching the other mortal man's eyes and hissing when he stepped nearer.

The God kneeling at his feet sprang forward, balled up, bandaged fists smashing into the backs of his knees.

The man dropped to his knees, planting firmly on the concrete with a groan.

"You-"

A familiar ally of Stark's slipped forward, smashing a chair against the back of their captor's head.

The man slipped instantly to the ground, back of his head possibly bleeding, and his eyes slipping shut with finality.

The God turned fully finally, leaning up from his knees and spitting out more blood to the body beneath him.

His neck was slit, blood dripping slowly down the creases and cuts.

His mouth was slit even wider, corners of his mouth hanging by loose, torn skin, and his jaw was possibly broken.

The tips of his ears were covered in cuts and terrible stitchwork that had grown infected overtime, knees scraped and bleeding.

One eye was swollen shut and his exposed stomach was littered with deep swears and slurs etched into his skin with heated knives to leave scars, dark blue and purple bruises along his porcelain skin.

Burn marks imprinted permanently upon his arms, legs, face, neck, and exposed chest.

His shirt was tattered, pants nearly sliced with the deep, jagged, infected slashes in his thighs.

The God merely stood, as if this were all a nightmare and he would walk freely in the end.

Though it did not end as he wished it would.

He did not die, nor did he walk on his own.

 


	4. Sewn Up {Shut Up}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki hasn't had his lips sewn shut since little gnome-ish creatures captured him.
> 
> Actually, it just happened a few seconds ago...   
> And it wasn't gnomes this time.

A mission had gone awry for the Avengers; a certain mage had been missing for a full day.

Stark had the occupied areas searched and scoured until a single sighting of green magic could be found.

No such luck.

He sent the two spies on a mission to infiltrate their previous enemies' bases.

No such luck.

Finally, he was appointed to his lab with Bruce, where they consulted the tracker implanted in the mage's neck after Fury, Thor, and Odin came to a compromise of the God's retribution to Midgard/Earth.

The red dot pinged in a place they had no clue about; no previous enemy base, no spotted new enemies, it was simply just a cave.

Had the mage just gone for a relaxing break?

Unlikely, in Stark's opinion, since the mage just wanted to sleep the day of their mission.

* * *

 

Black hair shrouded his vision, the cold flattened rock nearly jabbing his ribcage beneath him. 

He rose up, a puddle of his own crimson blood pooled beneath his head.

He tried to talk to himself and grimaced, lips tensing at the swirls of pain deriving by his jaw simply moving up and down.

He clicked his tongue and slid it across his lips, rough threading blocking its path to the plump, bloodied exterior.

He gasped, moaning in pain when it tore the flesh at his lips with the thread, and a hand flew up from the flattened, cave ground he lay upon.

He conjured a mirror with his hand, grasping it and shivering at the sight.

Blood trickled down his chin.

Thick, wires of silver and iron were snipped and twisted into his skin and pushed this way and that to simply thread his mouth shut.

Loki felt faint for a moment, sudden, unwanted memories clouding his judgment.

The mage grunted, trying to tear the threads apart.

A whimper of pain escaped him as it ripped the holes threaded into his skin to be wider.

He felt on the verge of having one of Stark's casual, everyday panic attacks.

The cold, hard floor didn't register and he forgot how to examine his surroundings.

He sat, hands trembling as the mirror fell from his grasp, jaw tensing and tongue twitching in his mouth.

Green eyes flashed worriedly around the cave, fully taking in his surroundings.

He was alone, no sign of his captors, no sign of whatever had dragged him here, and especially no sign of... whatever did this to him.

_Gnomes!?_

No, he was not in Vanaheim or Asgard, where he'd be tortured for his crimes...

_Midgard;_ he paused, _I am on Midgard._

He stood from the bloody pool, leather having soaked most of it up.

He took a step and stumbled, the hazy memories fresh in his mind.

The cave entrance was dusted over, a pair of flashing lights echoing beyond the smokey cloud.

Loki narrowed his eyes, recognizing the faint hue of red and gold on an iron suit.

He tried calling out to Stark, nearly screaming in agony as it ripped his flesh more.

A hand flashed up and against the sharp, pokey, hazardly done threads.

His knees buckled as the Avengers entered the cave, nearly falling then and there because of the excruciating memories and unbearable pain.

His hands trembled despite his calm and stoic expression.

He couldn't stop the shaking of his body, which only increased when he took notice of how he had no control over his emotions.

Stark peered at him through the helmet, clicking it off his face and staring in pure awe and confusion, "Wha-"

"Who has done this to you, brother?"

Loki still shook, anxiety and pent-up fear prickling at his skin.

_He was a God, for norn's sake, he should not be such a quivering mess over past memories!_

"Should we cut them out?"

Thor nodded to his Avenger friends, stepping nearer.

Loki shook his head wildly, conjuring up scissors and stepping towards Stark.

Thor seemed confused before holding his hands up in surrender, "Apologies, brother, did not know you preferred Stark's steady hand to my own."

He handed the gold-adorned, fancy-ass scissors to his most recent friend out of the group.

Stark took them carefully with a huff, "Okay, reindeer games, whatever. Just hold still."

Loki attempted to stop quivering, skin crawling as the man gently pulled a thread from his skin.

He hissed, clenching his fists and shivering harder.

Stark paused, steadying his engineer-obsessed palms and plucking the thread from its place, slicing it into two.

He continued onto the next messily stitched thread.

The mage tried to keep still, even when he noticed the rest of the group begin to enter the cave.

"Stark, we didn't find him on the pe-"

"Did someon-"

"Wh-"

"Is he gonna be oka-"

Loki flinched at the sudden crowd, the thread pulling in Stark's grasp.

It snapped a snarl of pain from the God and he covered the next whimper with another muffled snarl.

Stark huffed, "Guys, shut up. Chill," he sliced the next two threads.

Half his mouth had been freed, more metallic-flavored, crimson liquid dripping from his pale Aesir skin.

He raised a palm, fingers snatching at the metal of the suit Tony wore, denting some parts of it where he gripped too hard.

Stark didn't comment, or if he did, Loki was far too etched in focusing on blocking the pain and memories to even comprehend it.

The next few threads were plucked and cut up in silence.

Everyone seemed to be waiting for the first threat to fly from the God's lips.

However, once Stark firmly placed the scissors into Loki's other palm, after pulling the clenched fingers apart, Loki simply opened his squeezed-shut eyes and tested opening and closing his mouth.

His grip soothed on the suit, the metal firmly snapping once he pulled away and conjured a spell to repair it.

Green magic swirled around the holes in his lips and the blood from before was cleared away.

The trebling failed to cease, however, and the mage pulled himself away from the mortal.

Tony rolled his eyes, clicking his suit off momentarily as he tugged the God against his short body, "Suck it up, buttercup, you're one of us now."

Thor watched from afar, catching the somewhat genuine sob that filtered through his newly, reopened lips.

_'One of us now.'_

 


End file.
